Dark Side
by Jean-theGuardian
Summary: Even with Punk starting to change, is he still the man that AJ loves? Can she love him still? Punk/AJ, based on Raw 1000.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is what happens when the ending of RAW 1,000 meets a Kelly Clarkson song.

This is NOT part of the Hard to Handle/Core 4 Verse. Just a two-shot-Yes, TWO-SHOT, no more than 2 chapters to follow, I don't care how much people ask me for it! lol-that I felt I needed to do after last night's 1,000th Raw and well, a little inspiration from **IHeartTeryse's** great story "**Take Care of Me**." Go read it, it's great! Just a little Punk/AJ thing to deal with…whatever it is that Punk might be now (hopefully a tweener with some edge like he was last summer, not a full-blown heel; that's what Randy Orton's for…lol) I will still be a Punk fan regardless, because (Jim Gordon voice) he's the champion that wrestling fans deserve…just not sure if he's the one we need right now…

And lol at the people clamoring for a Punk heel turn around the net. If the IWC had their way, EVERYONE would be a heel, there'd be no faces to fight. Hmm, I wonder what would happen if _I_ turned heel? It'd probably be something like…(cue dream sequence)

_I give, and I give and I give for you **stupid**, **mindless** reviewers and readers, and all you do is take, and take, and take more of my soul and my heart and demand that I make more, not caring about what I want or my own schedule, because you're too lazy to write your OWN stories! And you thought, **'hey' it's okay, he's good ol' Jean-theGuardian, he's our hero, he's the Man!'** But I am not your hero, idiots, I am the **Devil Incarnate**, and all you **simpletons, you stupid, mindless morons and sheep and cretins, **you **ALL **bought into it, **hook, line and sinker**! But no more! Because I will stop at **nothing** to prove that **I am better than all of you**, all you people on FF dot net, the fans watching/reading at home and the brain-dead, overweight, douchebag marks in the IWC always clamoring for heel turns while they live in their mother's basement in their 30s and 40s without a date or any real job! Because I am the **greatest**!…**single**!...fanfiction author out there today, in the past, in the present, in the future, and there's not a **damn thing** anyone can do to stop me! **Dance**, puppets! Dance for your master puppeteer! You don't have to love it, but you better **#DealwithIt**! !_

(Slaps self in the face) Woah! Fell into the dark side a little too deep there for a minute! lol Sorry, guys, I'm a goooood Jean-theGuardian again! Honest! Lol totally jk!

Read, review, enjoy! (Unless you happen to be one of those trolls hiding in the guest file lately trying to pick a fight with me-which is likely the same person over and over. In that case, kindly turn around, don't bother to leave a review and please go away. If I want to be trolled, I'll go to YouTube. I write for fun, so let's keep it fun, okay? :) PeoplePower1, that ESPECIALLY means you. Your comments here will be deleted immediately unless you learn to act mature. You want to troll? Go to YouTube, you should fit right in, kid. )

Disclaimer: I don't own the lyrics of Kelly Clarkson's "Dark Side" or WWE. If I did, Punk would still be a face, Punk/AJ would be the power couple of the year, Ziggler and Sheamus would battle for the World Title, Brock Lesnar would be outta here, and Cena would stop dressing like my niece's favorite breakfast cereal and go back to being a thuganomics major.

**Dark Side**

**By Jean-theGuardian**

_There's a place that I know  
It's not pretty there and few have ever gone  
If I show it to you now  
Will it make you run away_

_Or will you stay_  
_Even if it hurts_  
_Even if I try to push you out_  
_Will you return?_  
_And remind me who I really am_  
_Please remind me who I really am_

_Everybody's got a dark side_  
_Do you love me?_  
_Can you love mine?_  
_Nobody's a picture perfect_  
_But we're worth it_  
_You know that we're worth it_  
_Will you love me?_  
_Even with my dark side?_

"Dark Side," Kelly Clarkson

* * *

**Backstage- RAW 1,000th Episode - St. Louis**

**After the show**

* * *

CM Punk was not a hero.

Oh, sure, it was easy to make that misconception, especially over the last year. To lump him in the same category that people would lump Triple H, or Sheamus or even…blech…John Cena.

The truth was, however, that he wasn't the smiley good guy to run in and make the save for the "fellow heroes" or the "little guys." Sure, he might make the save for a damsel in distress every now and then…one, in particular, a tiny brunette with expressive chocolate brown eyes and a smile that literally sparkled…but he only made the save if you were a friend of his or family. If he cared.

But to play the white knight in shiny wrestling boots? "CM Punk the Hero?"

That wasn't him. It never was. He tried that for a little while early in his career, and it just didn't feel right; doing the run-in, making the save no matter the risk of injury just because other people told you it was the right thing to do? That wasn't who he was. He spent much of his life standing out from the crowd, not fitting into it because that was the "cool thing" or the "right thing" to do.

Yet, as he trudged up the steel steps of the rampway, hearing the shocked gasps, angry cries of betrayal and jeers from the crowd, the scared, crying faces of children wearing his shirts and hats who were unable to understand why their idol, their hero had done what he did to the Rock and left the great John Cena alone at the mercy of the raging giant known as the Big Show…Punk couldn't help but feel the nauseating mixture of self-loathing, anger, regret and guilt amalgamating into one poisonous, nameless emotion that wrapped over him like a cocoon.

It was as if something else had overtaken him completely a few minutes ago…a side of him he buried a while ago and thought he would never have to see again. Maybe it was the realization of how close he came to losing his beloved WWE Title, maybe it was the taunting words from Eve and Big Show weeks ago reminding him of how often he had been overshadowed even with the nost prestigious championship in the business around his waist all these months, maybe it was just the presence of Rock and Cena together near him at the same time or something…but he just reacted.

And now, many of the people that he had enjoyed making smile earlier in the evening were staring at him as if he had just run over a puppy on purpose. And then backed up over it. Over and over again.

As he trudged through the curtain, he heard the loud chatter among the luminaries at the show and his fellow co-workers drop to a tense, yet still audible buzz. Their stares were mixed with shock, some with anger, others with confusion. Punk ignored all of them, stuck in a haze of his own tortured thoughts as he replayed the night's events in his head; how such a great, important night ended so crappily.

One of the first to reach him was Sheamus, a good friend of his ever since he arrived in the company two years ago. Flanking him was Kaitlyn, his girlfriend…and, adding to the complications, the BFF of Punk's own girlfriend, AJ, and a pretty good friend of his, as well.

The World Champion's firm, pale hand planted on Punk's right shoulder, the Irishman's stern blue eyes boring into him, searching for answers.

"Ya wanna tell me what the hell that was all about, fella?" Sheamus demanded.

All the Second City Saint could do was stare at him morosely, yet still having enough anger within him to push off the hand holding him back. "Not now, Sheamo. Okay? I just…I just need to think."

"Think? Maybe that's what ya shoulda done a few minutes ago before ya lost yer head out there! Christ, Punk, did ya even think about what the consequences would be? What this means fer yer placing in the company?" Sheamus shook his head, probably in disgust, Punk realized. He knew that he was going to get heat because of this from a lot of people, but he didn't think it would be from his friends.

"Punk, just what the hell were you thinking?" an indignant Kaitlyn demanded, her pretty face scrunched in confusion, hands on her hips as she stared beratingly at Punk. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

"Guys, back off," Punk warned, as his voice hardened defensively. Realizing that he was in no position to get into a fist fight right now, not to mention the occurrence to him that this was a close friend of his he was speaking to, Punk sighed as he let the WWE title drop in his hand.

"Look, I…I don't know what to say. But this is one of those times where I need you to be a friend and not ask me too many questions about this, and just…" he broke off, shaking his head as he found himself at a loss for words, a rarity in and of itself.

Reluctantly, the World Heavyweight Champion found himself nodding. After all, he wasn't exactly a saint in his stint within the company either; he had even ended a man's career once, that Jamie Noble fella. And that wasn't even the worst of it. "Fine," Sheamus groused. "Get yerself together; but you and me are gonna have a talk later on about just what the hell is going on in that thick head of yers. And don't expect me to let you off the hook on that, lad."

"We just want to help," Kaitlyn added, her face a portrait of sincerity.

Off a nod from Punk, the two men exchanged a hi-five and a "bro-hug" before the Irishman walked off, Kaitlyn throwing him a wary glance as she wrapped her arm around Sheamus's waist as the couple headed off in the other direction.

_Just what I needed_, Punk thought to himself in dismay. _Even my own friends think I've lost my shit._

He didn't get far before he ran into an unwelcome sight—the smirking, svelte form of the sultry Eve Torres.

"I knew that White Knight hero garbage you've been acting out the last few months wouldn't take," she smirked knowingly, eyeing him up and down in appreciation. "Isn't this much better, Punk, more natural for you? To do what you want to do, to do whatever you have to get to the top, the hell with what other people say or think? Now you're finally acting like a real winner around these parts." Brazenly, she moved closer to him, placing a hand on his arm and making sure that her breasts brushed close to his chest as she inched her lips near his mouth. "All you need now is a real woman to work out that tension from you. Someone who isn't built like an awkward prepubescent teenager, and can make you sweat, shake and beg for—"

Her sentence never finished. In a flash, Punk's vise-like hands gripped hard on her shoulders, fingers digging into her flesh which drew a startled cry from the former model as the furious WWE Champion shook her hard, once, while he brought his scowling face close to hers.

"You do _not_. _**Ever**_. Talk about AJ like that again," he snarled, his teeth bared like a hungry Doberman. "And I am the last person you want to be around right now. Now get out of my face; I'm sure your pimp is looking for you right about now, anyway."

With disgust, he shoved her back, leaving her stunned, trembling and gap-jawed while he stormed away from her, tuning out the stares and gasps from nearby Divas, Superstars and backstage hands.

He only wanted to be near one person right now…well, actually, he didn't really want to be around anyone at the moment. He wanted to be alone, to go back into his tour bus, take an ice-cold shower and just sleep off the anger and the confusion. _But if there was one person I would want to be around right now…_

A hard hand suddenly shoved him against the wall, jarring him out of his thoughts. "_**What the hell is your problem**_?"

…_he would not be that person_, an annoyed Punk finished thinking as he glared angrily at the furious man who threw him into the wall.

"You wanna tell me why you left me hanging against Sasquatch after the match?" a livid John Cena barked. "Now, I don't give a damn about what you did to Rock, that's your business. But trying to pin me after Show sucker-punched me, then leaving me behind without lending a hand? I thought you were better than that, man!"

"See, that's your problem, Boy Scout," Punk snapped, angrily. Who the hell was Cena to judge him, anyway? "You _don't_ know me, you don't know the first thing about me! It was a championship match, and I did what I had to do in the heat of the moment. I don't even know why I hesitated as long as I did before that cover, it almost cost me the damn match—"

"Oh, you hesitated!" Cena spat mockingly. "Good for you! I guess you making all those conflicted faces really made up for you walking out on me when I was getting pounded on! You realize how easy it would have been for me to cash that briefcase on you last week when the tables were turned and the Big Show had you down and out?"

"That was your mistake, not mine," Punk fired back, coldly. "And since when did it become part of my job description to fight your battles for you? Why _should_ I, huh? When did _you_ ever fight for _me_? Where were you at, Mr. Big-Time-Main Eventer, Mr. 12 Rounds, when I was working my ass off and clawing my way to the top? Or in the last year when I was fighting off Kane and Jericho? But that's okay, you're too busy grandstanding and glory hounding in the main event scene to bother with the little people, right, Mr. Face of the WWE? Huh?"

"So, this is what this is all about?" the West Newbury, Mass native shook his head incredulously. "Still mad at me for just going out there and doing my job? Blaming me for your shortcomings?"

"No, I'm mad because no matter how hard me or anyone else tries, Vince and his corporate mooks still can't get their heads out of your ass to let anyone else step up and show how much they can give to this business!" the Voice of the Voiceless venomously spat, letting his frustration of the past few months spill out of him in one fury-laced tirade.

"Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be the WWE champion and not even get the chance to main event your own show for months on end? All I've done since winning this belt is prove that I'm the best night in and night out, and for what? To get second billing to you, Mr. Stephanie McMahon, the MMA wash-out Lesnar and _Dwayne_ whenever he decides to stop shooting crappy Disney movies? Forget it, I'm sick of that bullshit! I have a responsibility to make the WWE Championship the most important title in the business, and if that means I have to step on you and rip out that bleeding heart of yours out of your chest, John-Boy, then that's exactly what I'll do!"

The condescending, holier-than-thou glare that Cena gave him…it was enough to want to make Punk kick his teeth down his throat.

"So, that's the way it is, huh?" Cena shook his head, disdainfully. "You know, I was starting to respect you and what I thought you were all about. I thought you had the honor, the class of all the guys who held that belt before you; I thought you were the kind of guy a parent would be proud for his kid to look up to, like all those kids in the stands wearing your shirts and your wrist bands. Is this the kind of guy you really are underneath?"

As close as those words hit for Punk, feelings of rage and guilt roiling within him, nothing prepared him for Cena's next words: "Is this the kind of guy AJ wants to be with?"

Immediately, Punk's eyes widened in rage, his mouth drawn in a hard, straight line. _Motherfucker, you just went too damn far!_

Punk shoved Cena hard, the Cenation leader responding with a push of his own, the two biggest names in the company only moments from an all-out brawl when…

"_Guys! Guys, stop, break it up! Please! I said '__**STOP**__!"_

Punk's eyes rested on the small, lovely frame of his girlfriend, dressed in ripped jeans and a short black tank top with a white skull-and-bones, as she somehow popped up out of nowhere to separate the two Superstars.

A look of concern was on her face as she inserted herself between the two men. And despite being oversized by two much larger, stronger people than she, her presence was enough to cause a temporary cease-fire between them.

"AJ, stay out of this, this is between me and Captain America over there," Punk ground out, not taking his eyes off Cena.

"Step aside, AJ, you know your boy's got this coming after what he did," Cena retorted.

"_No_," she replied, her voice calm, but assertive. "Even if I wasn't dating one of you and friends with the other, right now, I'm speaking as your new boss. John, hit the showers, I need to talk to Punk."

Punk grimaced as he remembered that AJ, in a stunning turn of events, was named the new Raw and Smackdown General Manager only an hour ago. Like it or not, her word was law around here now.

Seeing that John refused to move, AJ softened her stance. "Please, John…just give us a minute, okay?"

Reluctant, but hardly in a position to argue, John began to move back off. Pointing at Punk, he warned, "You get a pass this time, for her. But you and me got business now. And we're gonna settle it one way or another, Punk, I promise you that."

Unimpressed, Punk sneered. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Boy Scout."

"_Punk_," AJ said warningly, allowing Cena a moment to shake his head and leave the two alone.

After Cena left, AJ sighed in relief, her hand rubbing her tired, tiny little facial features that never failed to captivate Punk. "Are you okay?"

Punk merely shrugged. "Of course I am. Cena's a big girl, anyway. I've gotten hit by worse."

"That's not what I meant," AJ replied, the poignant stare coming from her letting Punk know exactly what she was referring to.

"Oh," he quietly muttered. Scratching his neck, Punk let out a harsh snort of air from his nose. "Look, babe, I've had a rough night. And I really, _really_ don't want to talk about this right now."

AJ could see the conflict in his eyes, his body language, and she knew that whatever had just happened out there, the man she loved needed her. Perhaps now, more than ever.

"Punk, we _need_ to talk about this," she said with a kind of quiet, yet strong plea.

"No, _you_ need to talk about this," he replied, brusquely. "I just…I just need to get out of here, alright?"

But AJ was not to be denied. Patiently, she replied, "You know, I could just make you talk. I mean, I have both the girlfriend card _and_ the 'I'm your boss' card I can play."

She laid her small, sun-kissed hands on his firm chest, just over his heart. "But instead, I'm asking you to let me in here." Her voice became softer, more tender. "Baby, _please_…just talk to me. Let me help you."

Even as he savored the gentle, soothing touch of her warm hand over his heart, closing his eyes, Punk felt a sense of shame come over him. It wasn't enough that he felt like such a dirtbag after the fans gave him hell and his co-workers and friends drove him nuts…now his own girlfriend, his sweet little spitfire, was making him feel like crap, and all she was trying to do was to help his high-strung ass.

"I thought sleeping with the boss was supposed to make me exempt from these employee meetings," he weakly joked.

The look on her face was not a pleased one. "_Philll_…" she ground out forebodingly.

"Alright, alright," he sighed, tiredly. "But can I at least shower first?"

Sighing, AJ nodded. "Okay. I'll meet you back in catering in 20."

* * *

TBC

* * *

Sorry, I would have gotten it out in one-shot, but I'm kinda busy job hunting now. The conclusion is coming tomorrow. And maybe after, more Hard to Handle goodness! And tell me who you like better - heel Jean-theGuardian or face Jean-theGuardian! lol jk

Later!

-Jean-theGuardian


	2. Chapter 2

**Dark Side **

**Part 2**

* * *

**Flash forward: Six months later**

* * *

**Royal Rumble 2013**

**American Airways Arena, Phoenix, Ariz.**

**WWE CHAMPIONSHIP – CM Punk vs. The Rock**

* * *

**AJ's POV**

* * *

I think back on that night every now and then. On loop in my head for the last six months.

Think back to how it was back then…and the road we've been on now. To get to this point.

Where I'm standing outside the ring, hands wringed in anticipation and nervousness as I watch the man I love go toe-to-toe, fist-to-fist, with the man considered by many to be the greatest sports entertainer-not wrestler, entertainer; there's a _big_ difference-to ever lace up a pair of boots.

Funny, I used to idolize that guy growing up, remembering how he cut such great promos, thinking that he was such a great wrestler. But up close now, looking at the way Rock moves and the way Punk does, it stuns me how…empty…the Rock looks in comparison. His moves are flashy, and they'll get the crowd pop, sure…but every move that Punk makes is calculated. Every strike with a deadly intention, every hold with premeditated cruelty.

He's a thinking fan's wrestler, a master of his craft. And Rock…he's just an actor playing stunt double now, a mere shadow of the man I remember watching on bootleg Pay Per View tapes growing up.

The place had exploded into chaos after those creepy Shield guys that Paul insisted on having Punk's back burst in through the blackout and drove Rock through a table. I bit down the urge to scream in frustration; Punk doesn't need any help from them. From anyone, really. He's better than people realize.

But I sigh, remember what Punk has been telling me all along; this is all part of the plan.

He's good...no, he's the best, right now…but he's going to have to hold back a little if we want to get in on something that's bigger than what anyone else realizes is happening right now.

No matter what anyone else thinks—maybe in spite of what he thinks of himself—Phil truly is a hero at heart, even if he can't see it sometimes. That's the reason we've been doing these things—terrible things—as of late. He has to play the part of the black hat villain if he wants to get to the bottom of whatever it is Paul is up to.

I can't help but to think of that line in "The Dark Knight" that Jim Gordon says about Batman. "He's the hero that Gotham deserves…but not the one it needs right now."

That sums up everything that I've seen him go through in the last few months ever since he hoisted Rock up onto those gorgeous inked-up shoulders of his on Raw 1000. I know that, deep down, he wants the WWE Universe to embrace him again as they have in the past, that he would secretly love to grow back that slick hair of his and be "CM Punk the Hero" once more. But "CM Punk the Hero" wasn't what they needed right now. He couldn't do what he needed to do to gain Paul's trust by being the "Voice of the Voiceless," as much as I miss that version of my loveable, jerk-face boyfriend.

He needed to be the villain. The remorseless monster. The Devil Himself. And I needed to be there to make sure he didn't fall too far down that he'd lose his grip…and I'd lose him. And if that means that people hate me, fine, let them hate me. I really don't care. Let them call me names. Let them judge me. After being poor most of my life, I'm used to it.

As long as I have him…as long as I know I'm watching out for him, keeping his head up, buoying his spirits when he needs it most…that's my only priority. And the only thing I need to know.

I can't help but to be impressed at how Punk slowly "came to" as he lifted Rock back into the ring after Ambrose, Rollins and…other guy, the big, scary one…planted Rock through the announcer's table. Punk could have ended it there, but that wasn't what we needed to happen. That wasn't part of the plan. Rock had to lose, there was no question about that, but what mattered wasn't how Rock lost; what would matter was the way Punk planned to win.

How we needed him to win in order to set the next part of his plan in motion.

Rock kicked out, just as planned, and Punk merely acted the part of the pouty villain, grasping his head in dismay and surprise, acting—and quite convincingly—like he was in absolute shock. He's really just giving Dwayne time to recover. Like I said…all part of the plan.

He stuns Rock with a vicious Muay Thai roundhouse kick to his shiny bald head, and catching a break, Punk gets to his knees, leaning into the second rope, panting heavily, his lean, taut body glistening with sweat, and for a moment, I bite my bottom lip hard enough to draw a little blood on the inside of my mouth. He just looks so…appetizing. It should be a crime for a man to look so damn sexy.

I shake my head to clear the lusty thoughts around my head as I catch sight of his eyes, silently asking me if it was time yet. I'm about to shake my head and mouth "No" when my iPhone's Super Mario Brothers text ring tone—the sound the game makes when Mario picks up a coin—goes off.

Sure enough, the text we've been waiting on all night shines like a beacon on the white screen. "_In position now. Let's do this thing."_

Grimly smiling, I turn my eyes back to Punk's gorgeous green eyes back on the other side. Nodding once. It was time.

Smirking as he receives my silent message loud and clear, he puts his hands to his ears in his trademark prelude for the final blow…ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the Rock to "Go To Sleep."

He trudges over to the fallen body of the People's Champ, and slowly picks up the bigger man, taking as much time as he needs to. No sense in moving too quickly in case our big surprise needed more time.

I see Paul to the left of me, screaming at Punk to "Finish him! Now! Punk, do it NOW!" I shudder at the unpleasant sound of his neck fat-curdled voice. I've met some pretty gross guys in my time in this business…none of them hold a candle in the "Ick Factor" Department the way that Heyman does. Dwayne's right…he really does resemble a walrus.

I just hope the day when I can see the look on his face after he realizes that he, the self-professed puppet master, was the one being played along, comes soon.

Punk makes a show of hoisting Rock up on his shoulders. As expected, Rock squirms and kicks and manages to fight his way out of it. He whips Punk to the ropes, and Punk eats a spinebuster for his troubles. As the fans roar in anticipation and Rock begins to reach for that elbow pad in a move I've seen hundreds of times before through the years, I feel a sense of panic coming in. _He_ isn't here yet, and Rock's ready to bring the title home with him.

Damn it, where is he? _He can't be late at a time like this!_

As Rock flings his elbow pad into the stands, my hands reach for the bottom rope, ready to hop into the ring, flash him a smile and do…something stupid…when out of the corner of my eye, I see the muscular figure of the one man we've been waiting for sprinting down the rampway towards the ring.

I sigh in relief. He made it.

Now, it was time to shock the world.

I hop onto the ring apron, making sure the ref can see me, flashing my best coy smile and waiving flirtatiously at him. He doesn't take kindly to it and turns his back on the action to berate me, screaming at me to get down off the mat. I shake my head, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him close to me. I crinkle my nose at the smell of cheap cologne and nachos on his breath. Swallowing a deep breath, I bring my lips crashing against his in a very hard kiss.

I feel like I'm about to throw up; when was the last time this guy brushed his teeth, Christmas? Brushing that thought to the side, I try and think of Punk while my little "distraction" keeps the surprised-as-all-hell referee blind to the action behind him that I can see as I look behind him.

Oblivious to what I'm doing, Rock bounces once off the left side of the ropes, then again off the right, preparing to drop that stupid People's Elbow on Punk's gorgeous chest…when he runs straight up and onto the waiting shoulders of our secret weapon.

The look of surprise on the Rock's face is priceless as he goes airborne onto the other man's shoulders for one and a half seconds…then tossed upwards and straight down, back-first into the mat, twitching in pain and agony from the spine-shattering Attitude Adjustment he was just given.

Standing over the top of him, coldly, emotionlessly staring down at the fallen body of the Great One amid the cries of shock and dismay from the crowd, and increasing boos…our secret weapon.

Welcome to the Dark Side, John Cena. Game, set, match, Rocky.

His blue eyes catch mine and he nods, sliding quickly out of the ring just alongside a stunned Paul—and I have to stifle a laugh at how priceless that stupid, dumbfounded look on Heyman's face is at the sight of the WWE's Golden Boy standing next to him after doing what he just did. My work done, I gratefully break off that gross kiss to Ref Boy and hop off the ring innocently, without even a glace back at him.

Cena finds his way next to me. "How'd I do?"

I smile gratefully. "Just like we planned."

Punk rolls to his side, propping himself up with his elbows and catches sight of me standing next to Cena. Winking at him, I nod as slash my index finger across my throat. Time to finish this.

As the kind of shock and buzz emits from the stunned WWE universe audience in Phoenix, I watch Punk smile sinisterly as he makes it to his feet, drags a still-groggy Rock up onto his shoulders, and not wasting a single second, throws him off…and smashes that stone-like knee right into Dwayne's face.

GTS. That's ballgame, folks.

The ref slowly counts 1…2…3…and a wail of despair and shock echoes through the American Airways Arena as "Cult of Personality" begins to blare through the stadium speakers. An excited cry escapes my lips as I throw up my hands in celebration, hugging John next to me, while Paul greedily demands the belt from the timekeeper.

"Here is your winner…and STILL WWE Champion…C..M…Punk!" declares Justin Roberts as a hushed kind of silence falls over the crowd.

Suddenly, I gain an appreciation for those athletes who have to win on the road in enemy territory. Making 27,000 people cheer is one of the best feelings in the world…but making 27,000 people go silent? That's just boss.

As Punk gets to his knees and clutches the title, I jubilantly throw my arms around his neck, kissing his cheek as the moment washes over us. I know he didn't want his big match, his biggest one to date, to end like this, but a win is a win, and ultimately, that's all the record books will remember. That on this January night in Phoenix, CM Punk proved once and for all…he was the Best in the World. And he defeated the Greatest of All Time to do it.

CM Punk defeated the Rock.

Case closed. End of story. Your argument is invalid, thanks for coming and see you later, haters.

And besides…it had to happen this way. All part of the plan.

His hand gently reaching upwards and stroking the back of my hand, he smiles and laughs like a madman as he revels in his glory. I see Cena, now in the ring with us, staring down intently at the motionless body of the Rock…

…and then he turns his attention to us. This was the moment.

Punk lets the title drop in his hand a little as he takes my hand and stands front and center in the middle of the ring with John. As Punk's hardened green eyes meet the steely blue-eyed gaze of Cena, the staredown between them is tremendous, tense, volatile and for a moment, even I think that they're going to come to blows as I hear the shouts of encouragement from Cena fans in the crowd—largely the kids and chicks—begging him to knock Punk's teeth down his throat…

…those encouraging shouts melting into shocked cries of woe and disbelief when Punk smiles, chuckling, and extends his hand—and a smirking Cena accepts, shaking it gladly.

The scene sends goosebumps down my spine as I put on a twisted smile for the cameras. It just seems so unnatural watching the two of them shake hands after everything that had gone on between them in the last few years. It was like watching Batman hugging the Joker. Or Superman hi-fiving Lex Luthor. Or Yoda fist-pounding with Darth Vader. (Hey, they call me "Geek Goddess" for a reason; don't judge me.)

"Took you long enough to get here," Punk smiles through his teeth. Now _that_ sounds more like Punk.

Smirking, Cena merely shrugs. "Hey, can't rush perfection."

"Wasn't rushing perfection, I was rushing you," Punk reparteed.

"Is that nice? I just saved your ass from eating a People's Elbow, a little appreciation is all I'm asking for," Cena shrugged nonchalantly.

"I would've kicked out. It's just a stupid elbow drop with a flourish," Punk groused. "And I don't need you to save my ass on any day, Boy Scout."

Sighing, I draw their attention. "Boys, play nice for the cameras, would you? We just changed the course of the WWE; might as well make them believe we're enjoying it."

Darting his look between myself and Punk, to which my charming boyfriend gives a simple shrug to, Cena chuckles, shakes his head, then takes a hold of my right hand and kisses it gallantly, the gesture inflaming the audience even more.

Now, it was time for the real coup de grace.

Flashing my best evil, smug smirk, I plant one black Converse-clad foot square on a prone and unconscious Dwayne's chest, grabbing both Punk's and John's hands and raising them high overhead, Punk grinning in self-righteous fashion while Cena's expression goes cold as he stares down the infuriated audience, now pelting up with sodas, glo-sticks, reams of toilet paper, and even someone's shoe that I nimbly duck under as it whizzes past my head.

As Paul pompously claps in approval behind us, the visual message was clear to the audience: John Cena was no longer their friendly neighborhood superhero.

He had gone over to the other side. Their Golden Boy was now in the corner of myself and the WWE Champion, the Best in the World…the reigning power couple of the WWE.

For better or for worse, the next phase of our plan to bring down Paul Heyman had begun. Pandora's Box was open and there was no closing the lid on it now.

CM Punk and John Cena…on the same side. And little old me, tiny little AJ, caught right in the middle of it all.

Ready or not, the WWE Universe was in for the ride of a lifetime.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

Hey all!

So, I've left this fic untouched for a few months, and after eating a bagel and watching an old episode of "Angel" from back in the day, I FINALLY got an idea for how to take things in a new direction here. I've always wanted to explore what a Cena heel turn would be like…and of course, I've been DYING to see how a Heel Punklee power couple would be portrayed….so I said to myself, "Francis" (that's what I call myself…lol ) "why not do both?"

The result is this new version of the story. As you can see, it jumped forward in time quite a bit, so there's a lot to be explained. I'll be doing that in flashbacks that blend into the present day setting. But yes, you will be seeing Punk and AJ in all their glory, but with new explorations and strains on their relationship that they will have to explore together, and separately, as the story progresses. And…you'll get to see my take on Cena as a heel.

On Punk and Cena working together, I couldn't resist the idea. It's like Joker working with Batman. Like Spider-Man joining forces with Green Goblin. Like Riggs and Murtaugh working as drug runners. (Little Lethal Weapon in there for ya, lol). Two polar opposites now working on the same side. Naturally, there's going to be tension. But the promos…oh, the promos…those have been sitting in my head for weeks, and I can't wait to share them. Hopefully, you'll enjoy them as much as I am.

Gtg, work in the morning. Bare with me; work is kicking my ass, so I can't update very frequently. But I will try and write when I have the time.

Later!

* * *

#PunkleeNation

#JeantheGuardianPromotions

#2013AllRightsReserved

* * *

**-Jean-theGuardian**


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